Harder You Pull
by Lucky's Girl
Summary: "Tuggin' in every which way to get away, be smart, save everyone involved de trouble. Only t'find y'self tangled up in de same reason yo tuggin' for. Harder y'pull, harder it s'to get away. Hell o'a life, no?" Some things are never so simple as mere wishes. Romy, One-Shot.


Just another snap, just another brandish of words. Words to hide the real meaning because neither could speak it. The truth would break them.

"Dieu, typical **y'd** be moi Karma!" He muttered under his breath.

"Ah'm yah what?" She snapped glaring up at him.

Oh so very typical. He'd always said it'd get him in the end, and here it was the final explosive bang that was the penalties for his sins.

Now, a better question, why was he pleased with his punishment? There was no other thing it could be, smacking him in the face every time and making it sting more sharply than her swift smacks. He moved closer to her… and the icing on the cake?

He cared.

Oh yes, he could no longer deny it. Couldn't put it off as a challenge, a temporary flirting game. No he wanted it, and he shouldn't, want only lead to worse repercussions. But the harder he tried to pull away, the more he became stuck. Because he wanted her bad enough… but for once… he wanted it for her too.

He moved closer to her, and the familiar hesitation light up her eyes, her body tensing up.

"Y'ever gonna give it up, Chere?"

"Give what up?" She lacked her normal snap.

"Resistin'?"

She snorted; apparently she didn't see the double meaning. But, he wasn't the only one that knew how you got hurt. It all started with walking over that precarious cliff and Remy had plunged head first into this one. He'd never deny being stupid again.

"Ah don't need ta try with yah," She said, glancing away from him to somewhere else in the room. She was starting to get wise to how he worked. His mouth turned down and he stared at her, ignoring how thick the silence felt.

"Rogue," He said, taking two strides forward, closing the gap she'd been trying to create. He took on of her hands, her muscles tightened beneath his grip as usual, she leaned her shoulders away, her breathing quickened just slightly. It wasn't in the romantic way either… just fear… for something to happen… maybe physically… but he was pretty sure the other way too.

"When we gonna stop playin' dis game?"

"Yah're the only one playin' games, Remy," Her tone had dropped two octaves and she glanced up at him from beneath her long lashes.

"Mebbe, mebbe not."

"Maybe you should learn not ta run!"

"Says de one who won' let moi touch her."  
"This ain't about touch an' yah know it, Cajun!"

"Oh, look whose stealin' moi lines," He said, though the quick remark on lasted a moment before both were falling silent, Rogue still glaring at him. She snatched her hand from his, crossing her arms over her chest, looking away.

Every time they did this. It was always one of them. They pushed and pulled and slipped and got back up until the line was taunt and then reality would pull them in.

Then one of them let go, backed off, ran.

It'd never change either, because they couldn't change. He couldn't change. He'd done this before, and he couldn't do it again. Throw it before it burns… that should be tattooed on his forehead. Problem being he kept trying to throw her and she wouldn't go.

"What do yah want from meh, Remy," Her voice was just a whisper and she'd turned to face the window. He gritted his teeth; the ball was in his court. Again.

"What Remy always does," He replied lazily. He'd only hurt her. She'd only hurt him. They'd break each other. What was the point? He wasn't going to lead himself to his own death and hers.

She laughed just then, a short cold laugh that he hadn't heard from her before.

"Yah don't even know what yah want. How do yah expect meh ta do somethin' if yah don't even know." She turned around and she was glaring again. He relaxed his shoulders, keeping his silence. Speaking was pointless if he had nothing to say.

She shook her head, strutting past him to the door.

"Rogue," He called, his fist curling in on itself. The soft thud of her boots stopped, neither turned. He wouldn't ever really want a count on how many things they slipped past, but…

"Remy. Feelin' don't mean a thang when yah ain't gonna act…" He spun around, grabbing her shoulder and turning her to face him. He stared down at her and her breath caught in her throat as she stared at him.

Neither looked away.

Here it was again, time to plunge and his feet got stuck by his fears. She finally looked down, and he could practically feel the similar response in her. He asked her to trust him, but he wasn't to be trusted. He wasn't reliable, he never would be….

He didn't care.

Remy leaned down, and grabbed her chin with his hand and brought her lips to his. She returned it and he revealed in her soft lips against his. It only took a second before he felt the small pull beginning in the back of her head and growing across his mind. She pushed on his chest and he relented, trying to collect his expression before she could see it and pretend the black spots weren't clouding his vision.

They were silent again. Both stuck in the same trap. Pulling to get away, and snapping back together the harder they tried.


End file.
